


Limitations

by carrionkings



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkings/pseuds/carrionkings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jericho hawke has a bad habit of not knowing when to retreat, and he has the scars to prove it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limitations

_“They're sneaking around behind us!”_

Varric's warning came too late; Jericho was lost in concentration, trying to conjure one last fireball when the blow fell. A lone Raider had somehow managed to sneak past the ice and lightning to flank his preoccupied target. Twin daggers flashed in the dim light of the cave and the mage staggered once before pitching forward, falling to the ground without a word.

Fenris glanced back just in time to see him collapse. This was not the first time it had happened; Jericho did not appear to understand that he was a healer and that as such, he should stay stay out of the fray as much as possible. This in itself might not have been so terrible, but he also seemed to lack a sense of self-preservation. More often than not, he would erect a protective barrier around Isabela or inscribe a warding glyph at Anders' feet before he even considered healing himself, despite the blood that seeped through his robes from half a dozen wounds of his own. So, no, it wasn't the first time their intrepid leader had fallen, but it _was_ the second time that day.

~

Jericho picked himself up off the cavern floor with a groan. For the third or fourth time this month, he blearily considered investing in some new armor. It just seemed like such a shame that his father's old traveling robes no longer offered sufficient protection. He cast his eyes about, checking to make sure the rest of his companions were alive and well. 

Merrill picked at her scarf and mumbled an apology for not knowing any healing spells.

“I'm glad you're alright, Hawke. Not to say that I thought you _wouldn't_ be alright, but it's just good to see that you're up and about again. I was just worried since Anders wasn't here that... I'm rambling again, sorry.” Another apology trailed off into more fidgeting. 

Varric was thoroughly inspecting Bianca for any new dings or scratches she may have accrued during the fight. Fenris said nothing, pointedly staring at something on the wall.

“...you're bleeding,” the mage said quietly. From anyone else to anyone else, it would have been a simple statement. But from Jericho, Fenris understood the underlying concern.

_Do you want me to take a look at that?_

This hidden inquiry stemmed from the first time Jericho had tried to heal the elf without his explicit consent, only to have his hands slapped away with a few choice Tevinter phrases. It had been several years since then and Fenris had learned to relax his guard just a little, but the question that wasn't really a question had been asked ever since.

It was a long gash, though not very deep; enough to be uncomfortable, but not fatal. He shrugged one shoulder and extended his arm slightly. The mage inspected the injury for a moment before lightly touching his fingertips to the flesh near the edge of the wound. The cool blue light threw sharp shadows over the both of them, making the injury seem more severe and giving Jericho's visage a haggard appearance. The spell ebbed away, taking the light with it as it dissipated. Fenris blinked once. The healer looked no better than he did a moment ago. If anything, he looked even wearier than when he'd shakily climbed to his feet after the battle. 

“There. I'm not as good as some, but it'll do,” A glance up and a crooked smile was all he offered before turning away. 

Varric cleared his throat and spoke up, suggesting that they head back to Kirkwall. Because Bianca has a big scratch on her side that could really use some polish to buff out. Because Daisy was looking a little paler than usual from the exertion. Because they were running dangerously low on potions, they were officially out of injury kits, and because frankly, Hawke, it looks like you're going to keel over again.

“We know the way back is clear. Well, mostly. Might've missed a few spiders, but that's nothing compared to a couple dozen more Raiders!”

Jericho's brow furrowed, his bright green eyes taking on a familiar determined cast. “No, there's no time. We have to keep moving.” With that, he turned and started to make his way deeper into the caverns, not quite able to conceal a limp. Merrill trotted off after him, asking if he'd maybe teach her how to cast some healing spells. Not now, of course, but maybe once they got back?

Fenris' ear twitched in annoyance as he watched their receding backs; not just because he was being dragged along on what felt like a fool's errand and not because the one supposedly awaiting rescue was a runaway mage. As quietly reasonable as he was, Jericho seemed to forget his limitations whenever someone else – anyone else – needed assistance.

No, not 'forget.' 'Ignore' was probably the more suitable word.

“Your face will get stuck like that one day, elf.” 

Fenris glanced down at Varric, his mouth predictably set in a scowl. “And one day, we may find that we are in over our heads.”

The dwarf smiled up at him as he walked past. “You talking about Hawke? Won't happen. At least, not with us around to make sure he doesn't bleed to death. Or run headlong into a dragon's nest. He's done it before. You were there – you saw it. I thought you were going to kill him yourself, actually. You're pretty good at watching his back, as it were.” Varric's gaze flicked to the only scrap of red on Fenris's person, raising a knowing brow before vanishing into the shadows. 

Fenris stared at the piece of silk knotted around his wrist for a time. He shook his head slightly and sighed, turning his attention back to the task at hand. 

Sometimes it seemed like he was the only one who seemed to care about Jericho's well-being.


End file.
